Anger And Pride
T'was never rage that made your
Empty cryptic red eyes bulge
T'was rushing pride- crushing valour;
One sacred self that you forge
poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Dirge To A Nigerian Vacuum
Rest, rest, you silenced leaves
Dance, dance till to eternity you set
Where the heat of theft scorches not
Rest, rest, maligned brothers of a crash
Dance, dance from the platter of charred peat
Tanned in aluminium crusts
Where you leave bereft of earthly troubles
Rest, rest, rested Nigerian comrades
poem by Oludipe Samuel
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My Play; Poverty's Play
And if poverty whips, largely, torments
In her barefaced snort of withering grievance.
I shall be the one, mannered by Earth's dog-wetness,
To garner my broken possession, murk and bins,
Writhe, clamber steep nigh moister Earth
From foot of lazy deities, pick the sacred mound,
Muzzle it deep against my leaking dereliction birthed
From a heightened helplessness of obligation
And speak the words of preserving ardour
From deities' bossom
As trambled Kola lobe and marooned salt
Earthed for no sprouting in rushing footfalls,
Prickled, insatiate in the belly of oblivion
I shall be the praying yam wholly unearthed
To the feet of a roasting 'adogan'
I shall be the racketeering prey, jostled
Endlessly in poverty's meaning play,
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poem by Oludipe Samuel
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O Black Woman, Dance!
I have kept them in awe-shrowded gaze
Austere ebony writhe in gold diaphanous silk
Whet by steady hisses from the musician's strings
Brunette, long and lean woman- like hausa goat
Let drums and flutes guide your feet
To sensational display
Jocund fancy wrapped in African beauty
O black woman, dance
Turn and twist
Beauteous ripples to magnify your tone
As the land's music peppers the mind
Flaunt your well-weaved 'koroba' and dance
Your 'alari' will suffice, will adorn your will
O black woman, dance
Stride far from ambience and sift
Your fellow women's noises- whether of jilt or eulogy
Here we drum, listen coldly
Sway as the blown palm tree in goldness
And muddled murram beneath your soft fine feet
O black woman, dance the dance of spirits
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poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Yoruba [African] Bride
Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi
Our beautous chattel,
Ripe and ripe as these glistening fountains
Let the knowingness of the moment
Frolick nigh your jugging breasts
Held high 'bove these dancing waist-beads
Sun mo mi, fa mo mi
Yarabi lo m'eyi t'o le d'omo
Our African mound,
Formed amid the twigs of strangers
Let your full buttocks, round as full moon
In a low sky at night
Sway and shake farther than the lithe beads
Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi
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poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Life Like Blown Empty Bellies
Life turned blown-empty
Like poverty-plagued bellies
When true, free will vanished
Into louder cries of hurt sanctity
It became a deformed goat
Limping in auburn flesh
Horns useless
He may fight no restraints
As to sauntering the length and lengths
Stretching the physical beyond
But in the unfaltering limp- up, down, up
His drive falters
And is weighed down by despondence in fatigue
O! Life sagged like dried sunburnt banana leaves
When our Moses cleaved Herod's throne
And one fine Isrealite tint
Waded through the Nile's blood
When good turned bad
Bad turned worse
Worse turned worst
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poem by Oludipe Samuel
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